Five 'o' clock
Five 'o' clock.
Epoch pt. I
293 How long will you worry about this vicious world?
How long will you fret about your body?
The worst this world can do
is to take away this cesspool of
a prison your soul is trapped in.
Is that why you are worried?
294 Those seeking this world are
drunk of greed,
they will kill Moses and
worship the Pharaoh.
The covenant we made
with the Beloved before the beginning
is broken by greed in this dust bin.
295 Like vicious birds of prey,
we are all chasing our victims here
and fattening our egos.
When the day comes and all
coverings are removed,
we will see what it is
we have been doing.
It's 4:20 somewhere.
Somewhere a moment passes,
without realizing itself.
Falling as if a lip-less mime,
Thrown from a cliff.
Smashed to bits
below, like fine
Bone China.
… By a grant from the
Carnegie Corporation and
Andrew Mellon Foundation…
…Yellow and porous and...
…It’s a deep,
deep line drive…
…This evening’s prayer hour with sister Mary Catherine…
…Tonight on the news hour with Jim Lehrer…
In a home, the patient.
Gather, celebrating their victory.
Together against the ever streaming
transit. The first, or so channels
present for the basic package of Lethe.
Rising and falling like the sun.
Sunk empty hollow chest.
Somewhere it’s one time,
or another unceasing decant.
Forever declinated.
Coffee served in saucer.
So much water for.
Diapers. Empty bottle.
Neck. Too knee. Hourglass
porcelain figurines.
On a table top doiled mirror.
A microwave and VCR
Runaway with another.
A CD player, lazer focused loosely
losing track, while a particle
board glue held hinge,
sags itself from all order.
And against it.
Somewhere an entertainment
stand passes. The ever present
pendulum announcing
there is no time. There never
was. Its frozen batteries.
Hemorrhaged. Leaking
out five o clock on
every surface. Like milk.
In a spoilt, dorm room
Refrigerator.
A fish crawls up from ancient
Mud. A light turns on.
There exists. Evolution.
A cube melts to vapor.
Rubric coloured inframation.
Just the basics. Steam punk
Perfection chiming in utopia.
A mime reformed, smiles
Gagged and bound. A mind,
exists with no surprises.
An apocalypse. Without alarms.
“Well we can’t run on hope... as a platform.’
‘We’ve beat that horse. Ya know the last eight years.”
“Hit me. Whaddya got then?”
A wall.
“A... Wall.?”. - (strokes chin)
“For who?”
“Well Don...(hunching) Eventually.”
Everyone.
(Low, long whistle)
“Shit. Hillary ..?”
“Ryan?”
They’re in.
“Well. Nothing left to do but carve the Turkey and...
what’s left of the EU.?.”
“We have to cede Poland and Estonia...
Georgia to Putin.”
At least with homogenization,
You avoid War in the boardroom.
Just a bunch of bankers out
on the street, taking turns.
Drawing chalk lines while
falling from buildings.
As ROI rises for the one percent.
And the commodity price of
Sheep can quantitatively
be eased so easily by Xbox
Streaming Netflix on opiates.
The wolves that are left locked
out and fractured will feed of
themselves till. In their own nature.
The strongest... Bonds unite the
greatest political divide. While
lips droop drool for hungers
glistening potentiates:
Transforms. Power.
By raw force in its purest form.
Un-embellished drops drip.
From those with the greatest
will too subjugate the other.
…as displayed by this box plot…
… First quarter foreign real estate,
purchases continue to re-invigorate
the markets from the 2008 financial meltdown…
…If traveling tomorrow.
Better bring your umbrella,
it’s shaping up to be a real wet one...
This isn’t a call to revolution.
Just the preliminary documentation
of the movement of pieces bringing to fruition.
The result of events crystallizing from a long time coming.
A train at a station.
Awaiting departure.
For a land that held a dream,
Once. Moving towards a vision.
And it isn’t exactly new, per se.
Just part of a path, along an old Way
being revisited. Like the trip through
Pennsylvania. Down past the mighty
Susquehanna, on I-81. Or rather as Dylans
lack of identity with Middle Class America, classified.
You know experts were created to show us how math goes
While poets. The direction from which waters of the heart flow.
I’d rather learn to be dumb and simple. Leave a little while
after knowing a little bit of both. There is no race to this end.
Won by running metrics, but learning how to fish…
For ones soul is an accomplishment.
Somewhere a mimes' words Speak.
Falling like tears into a ocean.
or harder still to some,
as hail in a down pour.
For generations
of silence.
Shattered.
In a Silence yet to come.
…”Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! This is the War Room”…
---President Merkin Muffley
Dr. Strangelove, Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb
A-minor Refrain:
Laughter is the best medicine
dependent upon the ego making,
of the observation. Makes the heart strong.
The soul sing. In harmonization. Of mind.
When building Walls:
That, which is etched in stone
is only a reflection of our inner sanctum.
Welcome to the orgy last attended
by the remaining occupants of Roman civilization.
Close:
321 If you keep seeking the jewel of understanding,
then you are a mine of understanding in the making.
If you live to reach the Essence one day,
then your life itself is an expression of the Essence.
Know that in the final analysis you are that
which you search for.
328 Building a thousand temples is nothing,
make a single human being happy.
Releasing a thousand prisoners from
captivity is nothing,
let true Love
captivate a single human being.
--- Shaik Abu-Saeed Abil-Kheir
as excerpt from Nobody, Son of Nobody
Vraje Abramian rendition © 2001
Sometimes…In the reign,
there is only dancing.